


Hero of War

by Spellweaver



Series: Between Earth and Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bisexual Character, Explores serious topics, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Racism, Female Friendship, Insert in Thedas, Male-Female Friendship, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Other tags to be added, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Slow Build, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spellweaver/pseuds/Spellweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a Blight on the horizon, Elodie decides to use her foreknowledge to get out of Fereldan and into the Free Marches, like, yesterday, preferably. Of course, she should have expected the inevitable to catch up with her, even if she had accepted that arriving in Orlais was most definitely not a fever induced hallucination years ago. Or, what to do when you have to chose between being probably dead within the next couple months or, maybe being (if you're lucky enough) alive when everything is over within a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “One Ear Against the Ground”

**Author's Note:**

> Aiming for an introspective look at what would happen if a person from our modern world actually ended up in Thedas. Hopefully biweekly updates, and as I become more comfortable the chapter length should increase. Also, aiming for an origin like experience, so Elodie is already somewhat established in Thedas, but rest assured her past will be explored later on. She is based on a mix of me, people I know, and pure imagination. Magic will more closely follow lore, so no instant heals. This is a first person narrative, thus skewed and unreliable, but depending on feedback some chapters may switch perspectives, or be in the third person.

“He said ‘Son, have you seen the world?  
Well, what would you say, if I said that you could?’” – Rise Against

 

“Well, here we are... Come with us quietly, apostate, and we will show you mercy. The Tower always has an open spot for mages with a talent for creation magic.” He was the grandfatherly type of old guard Templar, noble as fuck, with clear blue eyes despite his probable constant fight with Lyrium addiction. He even managed that familiar, comforting old relative smile, even if it didn't quite meet his eyes. The senior Templar, despite his regal looks, was probably suffering from some form of Lyrium Induced Dementia, or, as I like to call it, LIDs. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me.

He had flowing long locks that had long gone grey with his years of service and, presumably, stress from living in close quarters with what the general population figured was a bunch of walking time bombs. That didn't stop him from being built like a brick wall, to the point he could give a Qunari a run for their money at amateur night in the Beef Cake category. The other Templars accompanying him, however, looked like a bunch of snot nosed recruits. I quickly glanced over at them, revealing three, maybe four, recruits. He was the only one without a helm. They were probably really green too, given the tense set of their shoulders. I repressed a snort, if they couldn't handle little old me, a couple more recruits would not have made a difference.

They were all young, generally wide shouldered, and that one with the envy green eyes to the right was giving me the evil eye. Almost to the point that I wondered if I had just sacrificed a litter of mabari pups to some random pride demon right in front of them without realizing it. Glancing at her face showed a glimpse of flawless skin, dark hair, and high dainty cheek bones through the eye slit of her helm. Probably born on the wrong side of the blanket to the local Bann, or some other noble family that didn't want to be stuck in a nunnery, sorry, the Chantry, for the rest of her life, and so aimed for the slightly better alternative. Great, a potential enemy with a superiority complex mixed with a need to prove herself to daddy. She had a bow over her shoulder, and a pair of daggers at her hip. A rogue.

Still, she was kind of distracting as _me-ow_ , even that heavy armor couldn't hide those hips! Damn it brain, now is not the time to be distracted.

Most likely they had little to no contact with actual mages other than pick up runs like this. If this wasn’t their first exercise, that is. Thus, in my experience, they were slightly less brainwashed, but, ironically, had a harder time looking at me like I was human due to the aforementioned lack of contact with mages. The fact that they looked jittery from what was probably a recent hit of Lyrium and I was probably looking at a bunch of trigger happy punks with little to no regard for all the normal people around us. With JUST. ONE. SENIOR.TEMPLAR. to keep them under control. Shit, I need to calm the fuck down. Now is not the time for a panic attack. The thud thud of my heart attempting to escape my chest will not help at all. I can handle this, I am a strong independent woman. I take in a slow, steadying breath, rapidly blinking away any emerging tears. I must not show any weakness. I did notice, however, the knowing look the senior Templar gave me. Smug, behind a curtain of kindness.

Andraste's glorious tits, they were armed to the teeth if the glance I got in when a small lung rattling cough drew my gaze away from the group of Templars indicated anything. Well fuck... Why did I have to have such a soft spot for little kids? I should have left this little hamlet days ago. If only this year's round of flu had been a good little infectious disease and ended before I arrived here to restock my supplies. I mean, who needs components for trap building anyway? I can totally take down adorably delicious fennecs in one good hit, if I can find them. Still even when I was just using my talents to help, there was always that one Maker damned fuckwit who tattled to the local chapter of The Templar Order. Always. 

Even the single Revered Mother who held small weekly services in the village's minuscule wooden shack of a Chantry looked the other way after she found me tending to the sick shivering under their blankets, hands glowing like a red hot signal fire while clearing out someone’s lungs of fluids. I don’t bother learning names, but the hope warring with fear in the Mother’s eyes was just goddamn depressing. Damn my conscious. This small farming community had been struck hard by illness due to an admittedly terrible crop last autumn, as last year's frost had come a few precious weeks early, and the frankly terrible hygiene standards in Fereldan. Would it kill them to cover their mouths when they sneeze? Or even dump their shit in a different stream than where they got their drinking water when the well froze over? Hopefully, my bitching at them will make them remember.

The same ailment that I had used as an excuse to miss school for a day, cuddling down in my covers with chicken soup and my Gameboy, could be downright deadly in a little village barely fighting off famine. I'd already lost one of the village elders, the old fart had gently pushed my hands away and gestured in the general direction of where a couple brats had nestled under a blanket on the floor together in between a cot and the wall. The Chantry had a surprisingly cozy atmosphere, all wooden walls and books shelves smothered with religious insignia. Torches along the walls to increase the lacklustre light emanating from tiny windows that had been shuttered closed against any sort of breeze, until I had convinced them that some fresh air would do these people some good. I remember that evening, just a couple days ago, I had tried yet again to help that old man’s ungrateful ass... but he just waved me away, and started hacking up a lung. Ugh, I hate sick people.

They would know I wasn't local. There was a small Templar garrison nearby, close enough that quite a few recruits probably came from this village, and the local inn, small as it was, was the only place within, shit I don’t know, like, a ten kilometer radius that sold alcohol. Lyrium wasn’t the only vice held by the friendly neighbourhood Templars. Shit, I need to think of something. My accent comes out when I get nervous...

So, out of a want to extend our non-violent confrontation, I tittered, turning my French Quebecois on as strongly as possible, “Eh heh heh, Je- I am am z-so zorry Ser Templar, but I am a-afraid you have la wrong femme... I speak little Common. Je travail avec, I pi work with herbs. Oui, I have been helping the Revered Mother tend to the sick,” I swallowed nervously, and licked my suddenly dry lips. Better a stupid Orlesian whore than a mage. While the recruits were more than likely local, The Chantry liked to transfer Templars in from other countries, especially Orlais. Hopefully, this group of Templars were high enough that my half-cocked plan could distract them long enough to make a quick getaway. Time to see if I could make it look like that fuckwit looked like he just really hated Orlesians, “ but I, Marie-Josephe de L'Eglise, am no more mage than you are.”

Here I was, kneeling on the floor probably getting horrible splinters even through my thick winter skirt, tending to some sick kid. That kid gave me a soulful stare with his brown eyes that had been glazed with sickness not so long ago. My magic was helping speed their recovery process, but I’m not usually stupid enough to perform flashy miracles. He couldn't have been more than twelve, but almost old enough to be considered a man in this fucked up place. Brown eyes, with little flecks of gold, _'So much like your little brother Benoit, that poor little boy is even around the same age as him when you last saw him, wouldn’t it be_ soo _nice to see your little brother again?'_ a small part of me simpered, a brief reflection of last night's venture into the Fade, but I quickly squashed it. Fucking Desire Demons. Gnats, the lot of them.

The kid though, awake now, I couldn't be sure if he wouldn't rat me out. Kids as young as him aren’t good at keeping secrets, especially if they didn’t know they had to keep them in the first place. Little blighter had been sick enough that I put on a bit of a light show to make sure he would make it through last night. This wasn’t Kirkwall. Sure you had the occasional mage who went bat shit insane and played around with demons and blood magic, but they were, no surprise, far from the norm. It was only the careless, and kids, who got caught and dragged to the Circle. Luckily, Fereldan Templars usually allowed non-violent apostates to explain themselves first, even older ones like me. Especially since, you know, I was healing the sick in a middle of nowhere town. No undead, no demons, nothing particularly out of the ordinary… except for the funeral pyre a hop and a skip out of town, but hey, who cares about Darkspawn?

As for my opinion of my fellow mages... Eh, it’s the usual case where the crazy ones of a minority get all of the attention, and give us all a bad rap. God damn it Anders, even if you haven’t actually done anything yet. They probably thought I was just some Hedge Witch with a small talent for healing… of little to no threat. Useful though, in a Tower where a bunch of baby mages get sniffles, booboos and ouchies that need healing. Save the real Spirit Healers for the important stuff, like helping with the encroaching Blight.

At that moment, I was in a cute little village full of hovels just south of Orzammar. Quite a few of the people I healed had been surface dwarves, in fact, and yeah, I was noping all the way out of Fereldan and heading to the Free Marches. It should be safe enough for, eh, ten or so years… then I’m sure Antiva or Rivain would be a nice place to wonder. I’m certainly no enemy to some high and mighty noble, or merchant prince, so The Crows should have no interest in me.

I almost wish coming here had given me pointy ears too, to go along with my spark of magic. Then, at least, I could find a group of fellow pointy eared people to travel along with. Hell, they would probably be happy enough with my gift to look the other way if I happened to have any weird mannerisms, or they’d just blame it on my time among the shems.

Still, my little lie was obviously doing nothing to move the Templars, so I gestured at the kid, in a kind of ‘we don’t want to startle all the people who are here, sick, and scared shitless of the encroaching blight, let’s take care of it later’ kind of way… Unfortunately, the Senior Templar, whose name was briefly mentioned in the hushed conversation I had with them, didn't see things my way, wanted to bind me, the boy looking on with wide eyes as things became increasingly heated. It was a nightmare made reality, the Templar trainees becoming increasingly incensed. The details of the conversation are largely unimportant, just that it lead to the encounter that would forever change my life. For the better or worse, I still can’t decide.

“Just what is going on here, Ser Templar?” A suspiciously familiar voice said, one, of many, that has haunted my dreams since I ended up in this godforsaken place, chasing away any chance of a restful sleep. I've said it once, and I’ll say it again, damn my conscience, damn it to hell.

At that moment I wished I had gone with one of more outrageous impulses and moved to Tevinter, to be fed grapes by nubile and flexible slaves wearing nothing but loincloths. Even back then, before everything happened, I’m sure the power of my magic would have been enough to attract a sponsor or two from the Laetan or perhaps even the Altus class. That moment quickly passed, as the visage of a grumpy white haired elven man came to mind, beautiful, yet oh so dangerous tattoos weaving their way along his body. Slavery is always wrong. Well, I should get back on track. So, the conversation went a little like this.

“Just rounding up an unruly apostate Grey Warden, shan’t take but a few moments more, given she cooperates. Perhaps a few more, should the mage chose not to.” The Noble Templar betrayed his increasing annoyance towards me with a pointed look, the unsubtle threat lying heavily in the air. Duncan, well, Duncan looked amazing to my eyes at that moment. I’m preeeettty sure he thought I had the instant hots for him, given the look I gave him then. Considering I was used to looking at him through a computer screen, even with a computer that could handle Dragon Age on Ultra settings, it could never in a million years do him justice in real life. I’m not even that attracted to guys, anyway, with a notable exception or two. To this day, I’m still not sure what he saw in me that moved his hand and made him intervene.

“Oh? If I might be so forward, what crime has she committed?” Duncan was no fool, his smooth level voiced betrayed not one iota of what his actual opinion was. Like he didn’t know what they were going to bring me in for. I can still remember the shock that went through me as I met his deep brown eyes, assessing me as he engaged the Templar in conversation. He, at least, silently acknowledged my existence. I could see the encroaching wrinkles entrenched in his rich dark skin, dark circles of sleep deprivation obvious to only deep observation. Still, despite the obvious stress he was under the lucky bastard showed just small signs of graying at his temples, and not at all in his magnificent beard.

“Are you a fool? That mage is an apostate! Probably a Blood Mage,” you could hear the capitals in the way that green eyed female recruit spoke, “We are doing the community a service, the mage a favour, and are going to bring her to Kinloch Hold so that she may live among her kind.” Her hand laid on the pommel of her dagger as a result of her increasing aggression, and the other recruits had held similar stances since I had called into question the virtue of the one on the left’s mother and the mabari hound he undoubtedly had growing up. Oops. To be fair, what little I could see of his expression was priceless.

Hmm, Kinloch Hold, the Circle where, according to Anders, everyone was always kissing each other. Sounds kind of pleasant, if one doesn’t mind a gross lack of sunlight, privacy, air circulation, and captors that view you as a person. Given what I knew of what was to come, though, there was no way in hell I was going with them alive. The weight of my long dead cellphone laid heavily on my chest, hidden away in the folds of my top above my heart. One of the last vestiges of a home long lost. Leli would probably call it sweet, now that I think of it. 

“Hmm, from what I’ve heard, Miss-?” He paused, and waited patiently for me to actually say something. I swallowed my fear, and managed to say without a waver,

“Marie-Josephe D’Eglise, and you are?” I had been using different names in every village I happened to visit… I had never went too close to large settlements, where too often there was an increased Chantry, and thus Templar, presence. It seemed, at the time, as if my luck had run out. Hell, maybe it had, given what happened later.

“I am Duncan and this is my recruit, Sereda, of the Grey Wardens. From what I’ve heard, while an apostate, D’Eglise has been healing the ill, and the wounded, where she has journeyed. Indeed, I have followed the rumour of her appearance here on our way to Ostagar, with hopes that I might cross her path.”

 _‘Shit, subtle I am not,’_ Was a thought that might have come to mind as those words left Duncan’s mouth. The dwarf behind him, I had not actually noticed her until a derisive snort had come from her direction. She had eyes so grey that in no ways could they be called blue, more like the stone cavern she hailed from, and platinum blonde hair that was upheld in a braid lined bun. Beyond the red blistering of a sun burn, her skin was clear and pale, marred only by a small patch of freckles beginning to bloom along the bridge of her nose. Not long out of Orzammar then, and probably the Noble Dwarf given the haughty look on her face. She too, looked familiar. Odd, all considering. Duncan I could understand, given he was a set character in that game, doomed to die. She, however, she looked like my first Warden. Whom I had not given a custom name, as I had originally intended just to get the achievement for completing the origin with. I had not expected to like the origin that much. She had definitely been a paragon rather than a renegade… but had left Alistair unhardened so that she might manipulate him after being appointed Chancellor.

“The Grey Wardens can always use mages, especially one whom is skilled in the School of Creation.”

Fuck, I kind of wonder how long he had listened in for, before making his move. Was it a spur of the moment decision, a terrible mercy offering a longer leash than imprisonment in the Circle or death? I briefly considered bringing out my Murder Knife and throwing myself at the Templars. At least that would have been quick.


	2. Freedom Has Always Been A Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated! Not quite as long as the first chapter, but I thought it would be a good place to end.

"Might trick me once  
I won't let you trick me twice  
No I won't let you trick me twice" ~ Kellis "Trick Me"

What happened after that, was to be expected. Duncan can be surprisingly polite despite his whole “I'm a Grey Warden so I do what I want” shit. Templars weren't particularly happy, but surpise surprise, the crowd that hovered at the edge of our “discussion” chose that moment to be supportive. Its not like I, you know, saved a bunch of their lives over the past few days or anything. I guess they just needed Duncan for, I dunno, emotional support? But eh, I suppose they couldn't have done much, weakened townies recovering from sickness versus like ten Templars? Not to mention the whole they all totally knew I was a mage thing... only so much the good will I generated from healing their ill could counteract their innate fear.

Sereda looked far from impressed. I think if her right eyebrow went any higher it would have up and risen above her face and flown away. I guess having Duncan there had made me brave... and I might have said a thing or two (or five) that I might regret later on when the time came to try and shake the Circle and see what fell out to help us, but I digress, they'd all probably be dead anyway. I hope at least some of the villagers I saved were able to escape the Blight, considering the next time we might go through here, everything will probably be... I kind of regret going to Orzammar last, during all my playthroughs, is what I’m saying. But only a bit, because fuck the person who sold me out.

Kind of hard to believe all the little settlements that were left out of Origins. Makes sense, I guess, since showing that kind of detail wasn't even a thing Inquisition did, but they were there. It took a little getting used to, back when I first got here. Everything still seemed a little... unreal, if that makes sense. Like a waking dream, even if by then I had accepted that this life was my reality. Come to think of it, if I’d accepted it as reality at first, I probably wouldn’t have done the things I’d done, and met the people I had. That is kind of... sad. Seeing Duncan, and Sereda, kind of brought that feeling back.

 _‘Now is not the time to disassociate, Elodie!’_ Thinking of yourself in the third person always helps.

Anywho, back to what happened after Duncan conscripted me. Saying goodbye to that little boy who reminded me of Benoit, I gathered my meagre belongings and set off with them. My book bag was a little worse for wear, but was still so strange looking as to warrant calculating looks from both Sereda and Duncan, though the former seemed more interested in the shiny metal zippers. Makes sense, considering where she’s from I guess. Zippers are not yet a thing in Thedas. Duncan said something about heading to Lake Calenhad’s Docks, so that we might travel by boat to hasten the trip to Ostagar, and hopefully pick up another recruit. Amell or Surana, though I suppose it could be both. Life doesn’t follow a script, apparently. We had left town, largely in silence, until unable to bear it anymore I said.

“My name is not actually Marie-Josephe... it is Elodie.” Not awkward at all. We had stayed on the Imperial Highway on the way to the Docks, so we had a clear, tree lined path to march down. Not that there was much to be admired about it, at the moment. Winter still hadn’t relinquished its hold on the land, but spring was fighting the good fight. So, it was dreadfully cold, but occasionally warmed up long enough to turn everything to mud and slush, which then froze again when the weather turned. And, if everything played out the way it should, we would fight the Archdemon in this weather. Yay.

I continued, “I did not say anything before, but have my thanks for getting me out of that predicament... Becoming a Grey Warden was not quite what I had in mind, but it is a living, I suppose.”

I was rewarded with an eye crinkle and a warm tone from Duncan, “I have wondered what your name was, it is still Orlesian, correct? I would take caution trying such a facade again, as you saw, those from Orlais are not particularly welcome here, with good reason.”

Pursing my lips, another lie was produced, “My father is Orlesian, so I do have a bit of an accent. It just... becomes stronger when I am ill at ease.” If there’s something I haven’t ever gotten comfortable with, its making my speech more time appropriate. But, as they say, practice makes perfect.

He nodded, “Do take care not to provoke others needlessly. We need all the support we can gather, given the encroaching Blight. While I can understand your actions regarding the Templars given the situation we approached you in, you must stay your tongue when we arrive at Kinloch Hold. While I was able to dissuade that group of Templars from pursuing you further, the Circle is under their control and there is only so much I can do to shield you from them.”

I snorted, “Kind of ironic that you went to that effort to save me from them, just to usher me there yourself.”

“I have heard of yet another promising recruit sheltered within their stronghold. I would be in remiss of my duties should I not investigate the matter.”

And that was that. Sereda, as always, stayed stubbornly quiet, eyes glinting like flint. I was also very glad that the soles of my feet had long since turned to leather, so the journey wasn’t too painful despite the pace Duncan set.

Makes me miss Val Royeaux and their cakes...

Also, you know how I said that I hadn't been to any of the major cities? I lied. I do that sometimes, try to remember. I think I'm still wanted in Val Royeaux, but that, my friend, is a story for another time.


	3. The Ones Who Died Without A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie feels something close to regret when the party arrives at Kinloch Hold to pick up another recruit.

_“Hear the dogs howling out of key_

_To a hymn called "Faith and Misery"_ ’ - Green Day “Holiday”

 

We arrived at Lake Calenhad’s docks, making pretty good time, if I do say so myself. Considering how fucking far we walked every single fucking day. (Holy shit was Duncan a task master). Took us about a week and a half to get there, because little Miss Aeducan isn’t apparently used to walking this far. Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t use that kind of tone when talking about her. She’s actually really nice, if a bit manipulative, once you break through her dour exterior. Like a... hmm, a little like a kiwi maybe? It makes sense in my head.

Hah, this kind of exercise was something little old me use to shudder thinking about, but sad to say by that point I was pretty use to walking those kind of distances. But, like I said, Sereda just wasn’t. She wasn’t unfit by any means, just, as a dwarf in Orzammar who was not on the frontlines in the Deeproads, she didn’t exactly have to travel long distances often, as had been proven a few days before.

“So, how much longer Duncan until we arrive? My legs are tiiiiiiiiired.” I said, trudging along after him, paying no mind to Sereda who after almost a week of travelling together still had yet to say anything to me, unless shit, the Warden was actually a mute who found other ways to communicate. Fuck, now I feel bad. I was kind of complaining just for the sake of complaining at that point, it was still pretty cold so it wasn’t as if walking in this weather was any sort of hardship. My pretty little legs ached a little, but nothing compared to what use to happen, back in the days when I was vaguely contemplating that my legs would just up and leave me they hurt that much.

That was part of the reason to head to Lake Calenhead’s docks, not only to pick up a recruit at Kinloch Hold, but also to charter a boat so we can make our way down south to Ostagar that much quicker. I had entertained brief thoughts to make the detour to Highever (wow, would that have been difficult to explain!) and Denerim to pick up more people, but truthfully, they were just too far out to justify making the journey to and still make it to Ostagar on time. My assumption at that point was that Aeducan was his main recruit, and that anyone he happened to come across on his way to Ostagar was just the icing on the cake.

“Elodie, you asked me that exact question not-” He was cut off by a sudden thumping noise behind us. Duncan and I turned around within seconds of each other, I was already tensed and ready for confrontation.

Seeing Sereda’s petite form laying face down on the road must have shocked both of us, for there was a definitive pause before we both scrambled to help her. I rushed to her side, Duncan hovering nearby.

She hadn’t said a word, but when my hand went across the smooth skin of her forehead, I could feel the heat coming off of it. Her hair was still perfect, barely a platinum blonde strand out of place in her braided buns, and her makeup still a tasteful lining of kohl and gold around her eyes, yet she was apparently sick enough to collapse. Duncan looked on thoughtfully as I evaluated her. Fuck.

We couldn’t afford to lose more time than necessary. And Duncan is a particularly practical motherfucker. I carefully took her waterskin out from where it was attached a very nice leather belt, and noticed it was empty when I went to try and get some water into her. Groaning, I reached for my own and oh so carefully got a few mouthfuls of water into her. Stretching myself beyond my body, I used my magic to help evaluate her condition.

It’s kind of weird to explain, it wasn’t visual per se, but also almost kind of sort of there? Ugh. Anyway, when “feeling” through her body somethings became quickly apparent to me, as I’d treated dwarves before and hadn’t really been bothered by their “partial immunity to magic”.

And fuck, dehydration mixed with exhaustion, possibly in conjunction with having little immunity to surface illnesses, had apparently broken down her immune system enough that she’d caught what was in the small village I’d been in.

“I’ll just carry her on my back.” I forced out. I didn’t want to to have to carry her, and normally I’d complain a bunch while doing it but now... Just in case, I won’t make a big deal of it. Duncan agreed quickly, but seemed to doubt I could treat her while on the road and carrying her. I was able to quickly assure him that Sereda would be fine, that this was the same illness I’d dealt with in the village and this wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, she’d wake up again soon enough.

So, apologizing internally, I carried her on my back, slowly feeding my magic into her to help her fight the cold. I couldn’t do anything too flashy, might make Duncan a bit jumpy.

I could tell it pained her to say it, but she thanked me when she did wake up later that evening. It was also a bit of an ice breaker, as we actually talked a bit in the following days before we made it to our destination. Duncan seemed kind of relieved, as it meant I'd stopped bugging him about when we'd arrive. He joined in occasionally, but mostly seemed concerned with making sure we arrived on time.

Arriving at the Circle was oddly anti-climatic, no sassy Templars to get in our way. I guess the fact that they were expecting us is the difference. Who would have guessed?

I remember feeling so odd.

I’ve maintained a sort of non-interference policy since I found myself here, years ago now. I kind of flitter here and there, in and out of other people’s lives, like a sort of demented, magical butterfly. But, so many of these people... will be dead, in like less than a month. Dead men walking, and they don’t even know it.

And and.

The Tranquil who greeted us when we actually arrived at the Tower, to bring us to Grand Enchanter Douchebag...

Was none other than Amell, the recruit Duncan had come here to pick up. The look on his face, when she blandly introduced herself, was interesting, to say the least. Not that he had said exactly who he wanted, since he was also a vague motherfucker, but that was the impression I got from his response. Sereda just looked kind of confused... but I guess down in Orzammar she must not have had face to face contact with a Tranquil.

It was all I could do not to scream. Although I knew I wasn’t sick, I haven’t caught anything since pretty much arriving in Thedas, I felt like I needed to throw up. My stomach fell through the floor.

She just blinked, emotionless pale green eyes standing out starkly against the red sunburst on her forehead. Her ruby red hair floated like a cloud behind her, tight corkscrew curls defying gravity like it was a personal offence. She must have been glorious, only a few short weeks ago. 

Another cadaver. I bit my lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood. When other Origins went to the Circle later, Amell or Surana were not among the survivors. A feeling close to remorse formed low in my gut. She wasn’t my Amell, who was a pale skinned woman, with straight, if messy, dark brown hair. We followed her to Irving’s office, while I wasn’t really taking anything in. When she was leaving, saying her monotone goodbye, I gestured for her to stay. She did with no complaints. Something like a plan began to form.

Almost everyone here would die. This place would be a bloodbath. I knew what was going to happen, what had already happened, and I had done nothing. Who would have believed me? Bringing anything up now might just trigger it early, even if most of the adult mages were already in Ostagar. Tears pricked at my eyes.

Irving and Duncan started a heated argument in hushed tones, but I was too out of it to really hear what they were saying. I do know Sereda actually looked at me straight in the eyes, something approaching concern in her grey depths when she asked me if I was feeling ill. Duncan hadn't said anything, because duh, I was an apostate willingly walking into a Circle of Magi.

There was no way we would get two mages out of the Tower, ( _I’m so so sorry Ander_ s, _but I know you’ll live_ ), but a mage and a Tranquil?

Maybe that was _doable._

_Laughter echoed in my head._

I ignored it. Maybe this, I could change.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am using Bendingwind’s ** map as reference for distance, so this Thedas is larger than the canon, but I prefer their assumptions.


	4. I am flesh and I am bone

“Do you walk in the shadow of men

Who sold their lives to a dream? ” - Barns Courtney “Glitter & Gold”

 

Back then, it took me a few precious moments to pull myself back together and interject,

“With the incoming Blight, we could use all the recruits we can locate, correct? Would it be possible to bring Mademoiselle Amell with us? As well as Ser Surana, of course. The more people the merrier, non?”

They stilled, Duncan looked intrigued, and the arguments commenced again in earnest. Not much interesting happened then, so I’ll skip it. Don’t look at me like that! Do you really want me to go into the sheer amount of politicking Duncan had to do in that heated hour? With Irving **and** Asshole-Commander Greagoir? Back then, I suppose it reminded me of my time in Orlais... but enough of that.

Amell was told to go get our new elven recruit. We would be able to leave the tower, with Amell along for the ride, of course, I know how to get my way. For someone without emotions, she looked oddly thankful as she took her leave of Irving's office to go retrieve Surana. Thinking of what she went through in the few short weeks after she was made Tranquil and before we arrived is not something I like to think about.

“Was that really necessary, Elodie? From what I’ve heard of the surface Tranquil are pretty useless. I will not take anyone out of pity with us, particularly if they’re going to be dead weight.” Sereda was going full on dwarven princess at that moment, despite her short stature she was somehow looking down her nose at me, and divorcing me at the same time. Woof.

Licking my lips, I replied, “While Mademoiselle Amell will most likely not be able to contribute to the fight, yes, but she will be able to provide immeasurable support for us while out in the field. Would it not be most convenient to bring along a person who can not only prepare our poultices and poisons for us, freeing up our most valuable time, but has, if you had deemed to pay attention, arcane knowledge which has the potential to be most useful to us. Do you have the skills needed to enchant, Sereda? It has been but a few short weeks, but according to Irving, Mademoiselle Amell has already begun to cultivate those skills.”

She made the cutest sound of frustration, but acquiesced quickly enough after a few more shared quips between us. Seems what good will I’d managed to cultivate by healing her was fading fast. Given where Orzammar gained most of their wealth, her opinion of the Tranquil had probably been coloured by the perceived competition. She, as I had, had listened to the back and forth discussion that had made it possible for Amell to come with us in the first place... it must have been some sort of weird last ditch Dwarven pride thing that made her speak up. Luckily, our short argument had been in hushed whispers, or perhaps Knight-Commander Greagoir would have done more than just snort at us. Asshole.

Arguing had taken up just enough time for Alim Surana to show up trailing after Solona Amell, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and more than ready to take us up on our offer. Not that we’d actually said anything yet, but I know an easy mark when I see one. As far as elves go he was actually pretty tall, probably a result of actually getting sufficient nutrition from living in a Circle. Point in Vivienne’s favour, I guess. While I would have said Amell came from Rivaini stock with her dark skin and hair texture, Surana could have been Tevinter, with his dusky complexion and well defined nose. Kind of made me curious of how he ended up all the way in Ferelden. His thick black hair was held away from his face in a simple braid, he was looking at us with stars in his equally dark eyes. Amell must have mentioned we were here representing the Wardens. The mythos surrounding... us, is sad, when you think about it too much.

“It’s such an honour to meet you all!” He chirped at us, an actual genuine fucking smile lighting up his face. Not helping the guilt, but eh, you have to do what you have to do.

And then he unknowingly made a deal with a devil, visions of heroes and griffins making his sight all rosy coloured, and Alim joined us. And it was Alim, “Just Alim”, as he would say.

And then we were back on the road... and what? You want to know what happens in Ostagar? No, I still have something to go over, alright? You do know who else joined us, right?

So, travelling together when three became five was pretty interesting, even with Amell’s eerie countenance. Being around someone who is Tranquil day to day can take some getting use to, is all I’m saying, even if I was the reason she was with us.

If Sereda had only grudgingly accepted her place on the surface as a casteless and could be compared to a grumpy cat who had been forced to move from her favourite place in the sun, then Alim was like a puppy whose eyes had just opened. We hadn’t even touched land since we left the tower, but he was happily soaking in the surroundings as we went by. Asking him how long he’d been in that Maker damned tower seemed kind of inconsiderate considering I was an apostate that for all intents and purposes had been free for life, so I let sleeping dogs lie.

He was young then, maybe not even twenty two, and Amell was perhaps just a couple years older, somewhere around twenty three or twenty four. Sereda has always been a bit shifty with her actual age, though I’m sure it's still public record somewhere in Orzammar, but I’d have put her at closer to thirty than twenty. The point is, while I looked younger at the time, I’m actually older than all of them. I’d been in Thedas... somewhere around nine years at that point?

Anyway, as we progressed closer and closer to Ostagar I could feel myself tensing, questioning my decision to go along with them, with this travesty in the making. But, I had to. Duncan mentioned one more stop before we really began the push to Ostagar, a Dalish clan where he hoped to round off our group with one or two more melee fighters. Magic is awesome, really, but not the be all and end all of everything.

If anything, that announcement had made Alim puff up even more in excitement, “We are going to see the Dalish? The _Dalish_? I’ve read all the lore I can get my hands on about them, but we get to meet an actual clan?” I think he even bounced a little, it certainly added a little spring to his step.

Always a bit of a buzzkill, Amell simply retorted in the sort of a deadpan only a Tranquil can achieve, “Do those books not say that Dalish clans often kill humans on sight?”

And then I felt a tug at my navel.

_Well, well, well. A little late is better than never, hmm? You might even get there in time to actually change something for the better,_ Was the ever present whisper of Desire in my ear.

Pushing that to the side, I had a few options. We were already on our way to the clan... and if the tug was any indication, we weren’t actually that far from the ruins the Eluvian is in. I’d uh, decided to study the Eluvian before, about five years ago, back when I clung desperately to the dream that getting back to Earth was possible. So, I’d left some wards there, that would let me know if anything disturbed the ruins. I remembered that regardless of who Duncan chose to recruit, the Dalish Warden and Tamlen would go investigate them. Given how much has changed, when Duncan recruited me, I had no idea if we’d make it here in time... If we rush, we might have been able to prevent them from getting the Blight at all.

Mahariel would have no concrete reason to join the Wardens, and depending on how they viewed humans. With Tamlen alive, and the Eluvian unshattered, would Merrill later be kicked out of her clan? A lot of things are different, but could I deprive Hawke of Merrill? But... an intact Eluvian, this early? And Merrill would certainly be interested in investigating it, regardless, and she certainly proved to have the ability to cleanse it. And with Tamlen it would not lead to the crossroads, but a subterranean Elvhen city. It was certainly evidence Eluvians can lead to more than one destination... access to intact ancient Elvhen ruins long before Solas even thought of waking up was certainly an interesting thought.

I could change this. Without the group, I’d certainly get there with time to spare and get to them before the Eluvian could taint them. My first few years here I was in deep denial about everything, and thus I’ve come up with some interesting magic, at least by Thedosian standards. I was a weaboo and general nerd growing up, take that as you will. I just need to think a way to justify leaving the group, and come up with enough bullshit to get away with this.


	5. Nobody Knows Who I Really Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie makes a decision, and ruminates on some of the decisions she's made.

“We are all rowing the boat of fate

The waves keep on comin' and we can't escape”

\- Rie Fu “Life is Like a Boat”

 

“What _is_ a weaboo?”

“Eh, I was interested in a very specific genre of entertainment. Anyway, As I was saying....”

I had to get away from the group. Who knows how much time I’d wasted already. So, I used a pretty good excuse to leave camp for a little while, if I do say so myself.

“Um, I have a supply cache nearby, do you mind if I make a little detour by myself? I have some more combat appropriate wear there. Shouldn’t take me longer than, say a few hours or so? To get there, and catch back up with everyone. I can handle following your tracks, I promise.”

Duncan gave me an inscrutable look. I was an apostate he had saved from the Templars. I was a flight risk with a capital F and R. It was time to seal the deal. I widened my eyes slightly, not enough to be totally noticeable, but enough to emphasize my very intentionally wide and innocent light brown eyes. In a way that totally fitted in with the character of a naive little hedgemage who went from town to town helping the sick and needy on their way to the Free Marches, away from the encroaching Blight, and presumably away from the Orlesian Templars that may or may not have their phylactery. If there was an NPC named generic Orlesian woman, I fit that definition to a T. Light brown hair in a bun and all.

I had decided against being too much of a Grey Warden devotee, you know the type, but a person with morals certainly. One easily swayed to take on more responsibilities. Now, while I did glaze over it, we did enter combat a time or two on our way down… While I certainly did my due duty to appear competent enough, I made sure to focus on Creation magic, particularly as I was actually lacking more than a simple dagger at that point. But, I was honestly getting sick of the long winter dress that doubled as my mage robes. I prefer to get a little more up close and personal during duels to the death, if you catch my meaning. That usually requires having your legs and arms being able to move freely.

“I am planning to come back, I promise. I just had to leave everything behind in a hurry before, and I really do believe it will benefit the Wardens!”

I could have used the good old I have to go to the little girl’s bush excuse, but no way that would give me enough time to actually do anything noteworthy, and if anything would be a hit to his trust in me if I then did disappear for an hour or two. We’d been travelling together for a few weeks, so hopefully he had enough trust in me to let me disappear for a while. This change, this change could only work out for the better, really.  We had more than enough potential Hero of Fereldens that we could afford to lose Mahariel, if it really came down to it.  

We had Aeducan and Surana… putting Amell through the joining would be iffy, give the fact that she’s currently Tranquil, but eh, she’s competent enough. We only really did need one male Warden, to either score the killing blow, or sleep with Morrigan. I also may or may not have called in a favour to get Tabris the hell out of dodge, but that’s another story for another time. Unfortunately, I have no contacts in Orzammar, so Brosca was by themselves.

It’s not like I hadn’t already changed some pretty major fucking things already, right?

And don’t give me that look! You should know from talking to Leliana to take everything I say with a bucket of salt. I know I now have a _reputation_ , but I didn’t want to start off the tale that way! Everything is our perception of what is happening around us, and that was a good way to set the stage. You want to get my thought process correct, right? You have to really get into character to fool someone as savvy as Duncan. Not that I'm sure that he completely bought my act even to this day. 

Duncan gave me a look, but let me go, even if some of the others were just bursting with questions. Mostly Alim, nosy little bugger that he is. He was awfully curious about the whole apostate thing, to be honest. Pretty understandable, given the fact that he spent whoever knows how long in that god forsaken tower. But Duncan bade that he go with me, he could tell that the little brown noser wouldn’t be willing to cut his losses and leave, or try to convince me to leave and make little baby apostates with him or something. A little peer pressure, if you will. Not that would change anything if I wasn’t here of my own free will. I learned a few tricks in my years of being an apostate, I’ll have you know.

So Alim and I left the group heading in the direction of my little hidey hole. The trees felt particularly heavy above us as a plan formed in my mind. I had to ditch him, but not in a way that would put a dint in his growing trust, and perhaps even burgeoning friendship with me. While the initial twinge of my wards being breached had created a little panic, now that I had more of a plan formed I had realized that it was most likely just the humans who breached the ruins in the first place, not Mahariel and Tamlen… so I still had a few hours, really.

“Are you sure you don’t mind taking me with you Elodie? I can do my fair share and help you carry everything back even faster!” He paused to take a breath, following me all the while, “I am so curious about your little hideaway. How did you chose it? What kind of protections have you cast upon it?”

He looked at me with hopeful, dark eyes. I wish I could have believed in the sincerity of them, but I’d already seen too much shit. Surana or no, The Warden could be as much as a bastard as anyone else, whoever The Warden in our set of events turned out to be. No one could go through life in that Tower and still be that good, right?

Taking a moment to consider it, I gave him a deadpan look, “Some pretty strong protections, so be careful! I’ve not yet had the chance to allow you entrance, so even while accompanying me, I must emphasize you must take care.”

I softened my expression, “I do not wish to see you harmed, is that reason enough? But, if there’s something you must learn about life outside of that void forgotten tower, it is that mages outside of it guard their hoard of knowledge like the most protective of mother dragons. Part of the reason the Circles were formed in the first place, I suppose, to give a place for mages to pool their knowledge in peace. Before they became prisons.”

I paused and then emphasized for him, “and that is why I will go into no detail about any magic I have put in place to protect my belongings. It’s just not done, except, perhaps, with particularly close companions with whom you would trust with your life.”

I could see that he was considering my words with seriousness, kind of a shame what I had to do to him soon after, really, but I wasn’t ready for more truth to come out at the time.

“I see, well, Elodie, I hope to be that kind of person for you one day! We’ll be brothers and sisters in arms for The Grey Wardens soon enough. Do you suppose they keep people from the same recruitment group together?” Alim replied with a pleasant tone, not really indicating that he’d taken offense to the way I outright rejected his simple curiosity. If it was just curiosity that is, it could have been an avarice for restricted knowledge. Not that there’s much difference, if you think about it.

“Hmm, perhaps if we form into a proper unit together, it would make sense to keep us together. With the coming Blight, and the political situation with Orlais… I doubt they would allow any Orlesian Wardens in, ever, so I suppose we’re probably going to be together for a while, at least until the Archdemon is slain… and considering history, that could be for many years to come.”

“Political situation in Orlais? I have yet to hear of that, what happened?” Oh yes, please hyper focus on that particular clusterfuck Alim, thank you so much.

“Well, while former Empress Celene wasn’t very much interested in war mongering, she was actually a great voice for peace and improving Orlais as it was, her cousin, the current Emperor Gaspard de Chalons I, is very much interested in reclaiming not only Fereldan for the Orlesian Empire, but also their ‘former’ glory. If anything… the oncoming Blight is what prevented more of his foray into Fereldan. Why bother conquering a country, if he could allow the Archdemon to soften them up for him first? And then swoop down with the Orlesian Wardens and ‘save’ everyone.” I turned my head towards him, keeping up the pace we’d set, it wasn’t long until we would arrive “You did not know this?”

“They uh… keep us rather sheltered in The Circle. Not like what happens outside of our- their walls is to be of much concern to everyone living inside. Not like whoever in charge of the kingdom has much say on what happens inside The Circle anyway.”

I hide a smile. Oh Alim, if only he’d known then. Luckily, we’d been close enough to my little hidden nook that we weren’t much bothered by anything other than over exuberant birds and other assorted small critters. Anything bigger than a particularly fat racoon would start to feel ill at ease… usually that was enough to ward off all but the most curious or determined of people.

My little home away from home wasn’t outwardly very impressive, and really, wasn’t meant to be. While I did have quite a few protections around the place, no need to tempt fate by making the actual place look worth invading. Just a nice little cave repurposed to suit my needs, and the needs of the precious few keyed into the protections who may need to lie low for a while.

I hadn’t been there in a while, so the carefully placed herb garden, that at first glance could have been just naturally occurring, was now overgrown and oh, the elfroot had overtaken the spindleweed again. Even knowing where it was, it took me a couple minutes to find the entrance again. I could hear little noises of excitement from Alim, and my giggles turned into laughter as he started looking all offended about me finding amusement in his exuberant reactions.

While the wards welcomed me with metaphorical open arms as we crossed the threshold, the same could not be said for dear old Alim. The wards themselves were not powered by blood, but I did need a little bit of blood to key someone into them. No way was I going to bring that up to a newly freed Circle Mage.

So, while we did go and pick some things up, that particular misstep made sure that Surana “accidentally” triggered one of my defenses. A non-lethal one, of course. It would just knock him out for a while. Long enough for what I intended to do.

After that, it was just a hop, skip and a jump and I did my thing and prevented Mahariel and Tamlen from becoming tainted, and the Eluvian from being shattered. Surly assholes they were, no sense of gratitude, but eh, a good deed is a good deed no matter how grateful the people being saved are.

What, you want more detail? Well, I suppose I could be more forthcoming, but really, I’d rather get to the juicy bits, you know? That's why you want to talk to me right? To learn how we came to this point? How everything culminated in _this_?

I made sure to wear something closer to my usual garb on our way back, Alim none the wiser that I’d been away while he’d had nap time. Poor bugger was so grateful over how apologetic I was over how he’d ‘triggered’ the traps and suffered the consequences. And how I spent my time at his side, tending to him. Not that he meant it as a come on, mind you. He didn’t trust me enough at the time, to be honest, for him to even consider something like that.

He is cute though, I’ll give him that. He’s surprisingly buff under those mage robes of his, though I guess by the time I saw him naked we’d been on the road a while, so there is that. And no, not like _that_. I certainly got back into tip top shape on the ‘on the run and fighting for our lives’ lifestyle. Given how often the Warden’s party got into conflicts, we had to be or we’d die. I like having a bit of pudge though, to soften my hard edges. Not that I always look like how I want to look like.

Not that I’d gone with my fanciest outfit, mind you, I’d learned the lesson a certain egg showed off in Inquisition, no one suspects the one in hobo mage chic. At least I now have freedom of movement for my arms and legs. While I’m sure someone like Vivienne or Leliana could tell you the technical terms, I favour tunics with mid-thigh flaps on my front and back, with supple leather leggings and armguards. Unfortunately I had to forgo my pretty knee high Orlesian boots for some pretty basic Fereldan travel boots, but eh, beggar’s can’t be choosers. I also snagged on of my less distinctive, but still relatively powerful, staffs. Despite what the games will tell you, life in Thedas does not come with a difficulty curve, so it would not exactly raise eyebrows.

So we had to rush to catch up. Luckily by that point in my life I knew a thing or two about tracking people, so it's not like we got lost on our way back to them. Though Alim got that lost puppy look on his face when he thought we’d lost the others and would never be able to catch up to them. He even had the gall to complain a bit, but I took it in good faith that he was becoming more comfortable with me. Learning how to be perfectly pleasant, and dare I say it, being intentionally innocent is a decent enough defense mechanism. It’s not that he’s childlike, just maintains a certain air? I bet it has come in handy more than once during his life.

But I digress once again.

I’ll just cover our meeting with the Dalish, and then I think I’ll skip ahead to Ostagar. Trust me, nothing interesting happened between those two events.

  
  
  



End file.
